Not so Mousy Molly
by masqueradewitch
Summary: James Moriarty made a fatal mistake, but it has nothing to do with a certain Consulting Detective. Of course, Sherlock never realised where his pathologist attended school before she went to uni. Rated T to be safe. Oneshot little ficlet just because it wouldn't leave me alone


A/N: Just a little ficlet that went for the throat today while I was listening to the theme to St. Trinian's and browsing the Sherlock fanfics. This is as far as I am going, but it was just an idea that I found hilarious. As with all my tales, I do not own them, I'm just borrowing them and will return them unharmed when I am done.

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Sherlock Holmes burst through the doors to the morgue of St. Bart's as he usually did and came to a sudden halt, his mind racing to classify the sight he was presented with. Molly Hooper, the shy mousy pathologist that could barely look at him without blushing madly and tripping over her words, was shoving bottles of chemicals into a large bag. Her long hair was now streaked with blood red and black, dark eyeliner rimmed her eyes and blood red coated her lips, a spiked dog collar hugged her throat, and a leather corset hugged her upper body while an artfully torn mini schoolgirl skirt hugged her hips and barely covered enough to count as a skirt. Black fishnets covered well formed legs and solid black platform boots with many straps graced her feet. A wireless headset was attached to one ear and she was talking to someone over it, seemingly oblivious to the consulting detective.

"Yes Annabelle, Kells called me last night. I'm all kitted out, just picking up a few things from work. No, I've told the twins before, no amount of Trinsky will dissolve human flesh, much less bone and organ. Oh don't worry love, this sanctimonious bastard will regret ever trying anything with one of us. Am I the last one to call back? Good, I' just now leaving, shouldn't take me more than an hour or so to get there. Annabelle, it's me we're talking about. With the modifications the firsties did for my graduation gift, it'll be child's play. See you then," Molly tapped the headset and turned for the door, only to freeze slightly at the sight of Sherlock and John staring at her.

"M-Molly?" John stammered, wide eyed at the pathologist.

"I don't have time tonight Sherlock, you're going to be on you own for a bit. That bastard made his final mistake. I can handle the fact he lied about himself when we went out, I'm actually a bit used to such things, but this is unforgivable," she snapped even as she made to head through the door. Sherlock grabbed her upper arm, only to find himself pressed against the wall with a _very_ sharp dagger pressed against his throat.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, eyes wide as he tried to figure out how he had missed this side of the timid doctor.

"Oh use that brain of yours Sherlock. You can tell exactly how long it's been since I've gotten off but this escapes you? _Jim_," she spat out the name, "went after one of us. Nobody takes on a Trinian without consequences," her smile was predatory as she moved back from where she had shoved Sherlock to the wall and the dagger vanished down her corset before she spun on her heel and marched down the hall, leaving the two men to stare after her.

"Well, it looks like your cat and mouse games with Moriarty are over now Sherlock," John said. Sherlock pointed a look at his friend, silently demanding an explanation. "If he went after someone from St. Trinian's, he'll be lucky to survive the week. Surely you've heard of them?" John asked. Sherlock frowned and looked at his flatmate.

"I highly doubt a school can do anything to Moriarty," he scoffed. John chuckled in reply.

"Tell you what, ask Lestrade about the last poor bastard that went after St. Trinian's. Bet you five pounds he goes white as a sheet the second he hears the school's name," the doctor headed out of the morgue, but paused at the end of the hall. "I'll bet if you ask nicely, Molly would wear the outfit again for you," he called, a swift glance downward. Sherlock remained leaning against the wall for a moment as his mind tried to sort through everything that had happened in the last few moments. Finally, a slow smile spread across his face as he headed out of the morgue.

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A/N: Like I said, this is as far as I am going, but if anybody wants to run with the idea, please do! I would love to read it! This is a bit AU as it is pre 'Fall'. Also, if anybody wonders why John knows about Trinian's, well, he does have a sister ;)


End file.
